


Only Nineteen (But My Mind is Older)

by nosecoffee



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Canon fic, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, I suck at poetry okay?, Making Out, Table Sex, non descriptive smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 03:57:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5570131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nosecoffee/pseuds/nosecoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Philip's mission was to confront Eaker about the insulting things he'd said about his father. Instead he got distracted by a pretty girl walking down the street. So much for self control.</p><p>Or</p><p>That bit where Philip ditches challenging George Eaker to a duel and goes and has sex with Theodosia Burr</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Nineteen (But My Mind is Older)

**Author's Note:**

> Sue me, I love them. I suck at poetry so please don't mention it if you comment I will literally die. Please enjoy.

Philip walked with purpose. His father had taught him that. Walk like you know the secrets to the universe, walk like not even a hurricane couldn't stop you. Walk like you're not a living death-wish.  
George Eaker was his purpose today. The shady motherfucker had insulted Philip's father, publicly, in front of a large gathering of people.  
Philip wasn't the type to let an insult go unchallenged. He guessed he'd gotten that from his father too.  
The New York streets were busy, Saturday shoppers strolling along the pavement, women twirling parasols, men linking their arms and leaning lightly on their ornamental walking sticks.  
Theodosia Burr exited a fabric store, a bit of lace sticking out of the corner of her basket. She opened her sky blue parasol, the one that matched her dress, and rested it on her right shoulder.  
It was almost too easy to get distracted by her. For a Burr, she was probably the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Philip momentarily forgot about George fucking Eaker.  
He ran to catch up to her and casually strolled up to Theodosia's side.  
"Miss Burr," he said. The girl started slightly and turned to him, her face shaded by the blue lace of her parasol.  
"Mr Hamilton," she replied, a questioning tone underlying her words. "How are you this morning?"  
"Quite well, Miss Burr. And you?" She smiled, turning her gaze back to the road in front of her.  
"The same, I find. Though your presence has certainly brightened it." Philip's lips slid into a smile. "Would you like some help carrying that?" He gestured to her basket.  
Theodosia glanced at it, and shook her head. "I'm fine, thank you, Mr Hamilton."  
Theodosia slowed to a stop, next to a flower stand, examining the selection. Then she shook her head at the stand owner politely and carried on. Philip smiled sympathetically at the vender and ran after her.  
"Where are you off to?" He asked. She glanced at him.  
"Un-important." Theodosia replied. "You know if you tied your hair back it wouldn't look so insane?"  
Philip shrugged the comment off. "Don't want to be exactly like my father, now, do I?" He answered.  
Theodosia shook her head and laughed at the sky. "You are a marvel, Philip Hamilton. What is it that you want from me?"  
Philip hooked his arm around hers, and she only looked at it quizzically for a moment. "Your presence is enough, for now, dear lady."  
She stopped, and turned to him, their linked arms falling. "I mean literally. What exactly are you after?"  
Philip sighed, running a hand through the hair at the back of his neck. "Miss Burr," he began.  
"Theodosia will work just fine." She interjected.  
"Theodosia then." Philip revised. "You are probably the only lady I have ever wished to court."  
She smirked disbelievingly. "Is that so?"  
"It is." Philip took one of her gloved hands, carefully. "My father was nineteen when he courted my mother."  
"Maybe that was why he was unfaithful." Theodosia murmured. Philip pretended he didn't hear her.  
"Despite our fathers loathing for each other, I am willing to overlook it for you."  
She raised an eyebrow. "Alright then. You may walk me home, if you wish."  
He smiled and took her arm again and carried on down to road.  
It didn't take them long to make their way uptown to her townhouse, and to her front door.  
"Does this mean, you will allow me to court you?" Philip asked, when she released his arm and turned to unlock the door.  
"Yes it does, Mr Hamilton." Theodosia replied, as the door swung open. "I will address my father on the subject tonight."  
She turned back to him, a grateful expression on her face. Her eyes sparkled and Philip's mouth went dry.  
They stood like that for a moment, and Philip wondered if she would hit him if he stepped up and let their mouths meet.  
"Would you like to come in?" She asked, after a minute, knowing it was against society norms.  
Philip nodded and followed her into the cosy townhouse, closing the door gently behind him.  
"Would you like a drink?" Theodosia called from what he assumed was the kitchen. He walked carefully down the hall into the kitchen where Theodosia was placing a kettle on the stove.  
"No thank you." He answered, gazing around. The Hamilton house wasn't like this. Small and tidy. It was messy, and huge, and not enough room for the amount of Hamilton's there were running around in it.  
Theodosia was an only child, and lived in this house with her father. Just her father.  
"It must be lonely," he said. Theodosia glanced at him. She was piling red apples into a bowl on the dining table.  
"Not particularly," she replied, shoving a lock of dark hair behind her ear. "You get used to it. It's actually quite full when father is home. I imagine it's different in your household."  
"It is," Philip took the bag of apples from her and finished the job from her. "But, as you said, you get used to it. It is a normality for there to be noise and movement around every corner."  
She smiled at him, taking off her coat and placing it on a hook. There was silence, and she glanced away, flush colouring her cheeks as red as the apples she had been stacking.  
Philip noticed how close they were standing. He could feel the fabric of her dress against his trouser leg, her breath rustling his unruly hair.  
Theodosia licked her lips nervously, effectively distracting him, all clever comments leaving his mind as he imagined how sweet her lips would taste.  
"Mr Hamilton," she murmured, raising a hand hesitantly. Philip took it.  
"Philip will work just fine," he breathed before leaning into her, closing his lips over hers, and taking her waist with his free hand.  
She sighed shakily and shivered into his torso, pressing her corseted chest to his. "Philip," Theodosia murmured, bumping her nose into his cheek, turning her head to get better access to his lips.  
"Theodosia," he whispered back, pulling her into him by his grip on her waist. She gasped when he placed a knee between her legs.  
She gripped his upper left arm tightly, kissing him with more passion than before, her eyes slipping closed.  
The fabric of her dress underneath his fingers was expensive, smooth, and begging to be shed to the floor.  
Philip wanted to pull the pins from her hair, wanted to let the curls fall to her shoulders, and lower.  
He wanted her to open her damn eyes.  
She was leaning against the table, perched lightly on the edge of the wood, Philip's knee leaning slightly on it, otherwise, attempting to get against her bare skin.  
He groaned, low in his throat, and released her waist and hand, instead taking her hips and lifting her safely onto the table.  
Theodosia broke the kiss, opened her goddamned gorgeous eyes, and breathed heavily into his neck. "Goodness," she whispered, and he thumbed the fabric of her skirt, gazing at the expanse of skin that appeared above the sweetheart line of her dress. "I never knew you could kiss someone like that, Philip."  
"It was..." Theodosia was intoxicating. She invaded his senses, cutting off his witty comments and his words, altogether. She smelled sweet, like roses.  
"I made a Hamilton speechless. That's an achievement that speaks for itself." She looked up at him, her eyes shining and her cheeks flushed. It made Philip want to kiss her again.  
"Courting a Burr belongs to that category, as well." He replied, at an attempt to sound witty. She giggled.  
"Philip, don't try. Your mouth is at better work against mine." Theodosia said, taking a hold of his collar.  
"But I'm a poet!" Philip protested. She kissed him sweetly, pulling him closer by his collar, and now her skirt was riding up her legs and he was between her legs.  
"Then serenade me," she replied, pushing past his hair and going to work on his neck.  
His breath was shaky. How the hell was he supposed to think of something off the top of his head?  
"Theodosia is my only," he began and she hummed against his skin. "When she is gone, I feel so lonely." It was sloppy, he could do better with more time. "But when she's here, I dare not shed a tear. She smells of roses and when we kiss I feel like Moses, parting the Red Sea for her would not be enough to show how I admire her."  
She giggled, unbuttoning the top of his shirt, parting his collar and dragging her teeth against the hollow of his throat. Philip openly moaned.  
"You can't rhyme 'her' with 'her'. That's cheating." Theodosia said, repeating the movement. "I like that noise."  
"Theo," he moaned, steading himself on the table next to her hips. "Theo, I don't think I can stop-"  
"Then don't, Philip." She whispered, and grinned at his shocked look. "I'll kiss your surprise away. I just need you to do the same for me."  
It only took him a moment to dive back in, kissing her like his life depended on it, like the world was ending.  
Theodosia's skirt had ridden up her thighs and he was all the way between her legs, which was torture enough, without her hot mouth against his.  
Philip felt like he'd crumbled the moment she parted her lips for him.  
When he reflected on it later, shedding her underwear, undoing his trousers and making love to her on her dining table, probably wasn't his best idea.  
Sure, it seemed like a good one at the time, and, sure, she hadn't stopped him, in fact, she'd egged him on, but it wasn't his best.  
Theodosia had kissed him goodnight and he left, finally remembering his purpose. She waved to him as he walked down the garden path and onto the street.  
Now to deal with George Eaker.

-

Her father returned later that evening. She'd fixed dinner and the oil lamps were glowing.  
There were in the middle of eating when she worked up the courage to mention Philip to him.  
"Father," Theodosia began. He looked up at her and smiled. She smiled back. "I wanted to speak to you about Philip Hamilton."  
His smile fell and he looked back down at his dinner. "Oh yes, tragic business."  
Theodosia's brow creased with confusion. "Whatever do you mean, father?"  
"That terrible business with Philip Hamilton. Poor boy, should've known better than to challenge George Eaker to a duel."  
Her fork clattered to the table. "He did what?"  
"They said he was aiming at the sky before he got to ten. And Eaker shot him at seven." Her vision blurred. "Poor thing."  
"You-you mean-" the words were choking her. She stared at the red apples in the bowl. "He's dead?"  
Her father stared questioningly at her. "Yes. Wasn't that what you wanted to talk about?"  
Theodosia ran from the table. Philip couldn't be dead. He'd been in that very room only a few hours before. His presence was still there. She could still feel his hands on her skin, gentle, careful, loving, words of poetry flowing from his tongue.  
She cried into her pillow.  
Philip couldn't be dead.  
Philip was invincible and immortal and forever.  
Philip was irreplaceable.

 

Fin.


End file.
